


Disenchanted

by InLoveAndSqualor



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, M/M, MCR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-10
Updated: 2008-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLoveAndSqualor/pseuds/InLoveAndSqualor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story deals with the subject of suicide.<br/>Please do not read this piece of fiction if you feel at all uncomfortable with the subject matter.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Disenchanted

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with the subject of suicide.  
> Please do not read this piece of fiction if you feel at all uncomfortable with the subject matter.

Another dry pill.

The spiced hot taste of whiskey on his tongue.

Force that poison down.

Two pills this time.

Impatience is a friend.

Glass bottle’s neck against lips, liquor rushing through.

Two again.

Swallow them dry.

Three pills for luck.

A heady gulp of warmest liquid.

Another and another taste. 

He never could resist that sensation; that feel of each precious sip of intoxication. Even now when it would all so soon be gone; lost.

He lays down on the hotel bed, drapes a drowsy arm over the side and lets his empty bottle roll slowly down. 

Head hits soft pillow and sinks. 

Bliss, drunken bliss. 

A blade of light cuts through the half open blinds, smoothes and dissipates into the dim shadows of the room.

I never thought I’d die on a sunny day Gerard muses sleepily, happily.

I never thought I’d die, he realises and smiles.

And there’s that noise again.

There’s the thudding of fists against a locked door, the desperate twisting of the brass knob; the sound of someone rattling the door in its frame, on its hinges.

Gerard feels a smile crawl across his face, feels the warm sun follow suite. 

And he feels happy and warm; sensations he had gone years without. 

How long had it been since he'd just let go, bathed in golden rays and smiled, instead of hiding in the dark and in the shadows; too lost?

Banging again.

Gerard’s grin grows further still and almost turns into laughter. 

There’s no getting in now and when you do it will be too late, he smirks.

The sound of a ringing phone clatters into the room. 

It destroys the peace; cuts and gnaws at tranquillity. He has to stop it. 

Tracing a hand down the wall behind him, he grasps the wire at the socket and wrenches it free with all the apathetic energy he has left.

Presses eyes tight shut and feels such a giddying high.

Warm and safe.

Warm and slipping.

Dying feels so much like falling into a dream.

That noise is getting louder. Voices are growing desperate. Thuds more violent.

There will be nothing soon he promises himself and he is almost excited.

A nauseating bang.

Invading forces are coming.

Bang.

That’s not just a fist.

Gerard fans his arms out either side of his body and enjoys the tingling numbness spreading through his torso and limbs.

A blow laced with the sound of splinters.

Its too late, sorry, he thinks.

He’s not sorry.

He wanted this.

Cracking wood and echoing blows.

How was it that so suddenly that morning Gerard realised he was entirely tired of life? Knew that he had lost that hope that had always stopped him getting this far before. It had just gone. Deserted. And all that was left was the terrible absence of hope; the notion that for all these years he had lived a lie. He had told himself everyday that things would get better and then they never did. That very morning, wincing at the ghost in the mirror, he concluded that he could not go on for the rest of his life telling himself tomorrow he would be okay. He didn’t even crave happiness anymore; he just wanted the terrible pain to stop. 

This was the only way.

The depression crept into him so slowly that for many years it went entirely unnoticed. Everyday it took a millimetre more of his being, until it had nowhere left to conquer, to leave its torturous mark; and resolved to spend the rest of its time clattering around an empty shell. 

His love for him was as unexpected. One day he awoke with the strange realisation that he had taken his heart, accosted his soul.

Those noises were fading; like they’d slipped out of reality and were playing on the TV set in an adjoining room. 

The sounds aren’t real. Reality is dying. 

All is fading away. The chaos of the world growing ever distant.

Eyelids fall shut and the world is blackness.

Hot wetness raining down rouses Gerard from delirium; hands taking a desperate hold of his sinking shoulders. He parts his lips and draws in a shallow breath. Another warm tear falls upon his cheek and he knows his friend must be crying.

Open eyes. See the world.

Take this one last crushing indignity.

His face. He is so afraid. He looks so afraid and broken.

“Frank… I’m sorry,” Gerard whispers.

But it is automatic. A lie. The response, the feelings, he knows he’s supposed to have.

He’s not sorry. Has no regrets. 

He raises his blurring eyes and sees his grief stricken friend, face tear streaked and shaking. He sees the dim edges of creation creeping around his vision; framing Frank in a deepest darkest kind of ebony halo.

I thought I’d see life fading away slowly, not death closing in, he muses.

Nothingness is becoming ever apparent amongst all this terrible existence.

Gerard closes his eyes once more and lays waiting to make the leap; leave this world.

Skin greets his neck. It’s warm and dry. It smells of comfort and the past. It smells of him.

Screams and cries are pressed, forced into Gerard’s neck; and it feels nice. It feels pleasant and soothing; and not at all like it should. 

Words are vibrations that make no sense. Sounds are obsolete anyway; sensations are melding into one. 

Lips move across a numbing neck and the soft grazing is hypnotic.

God how Gerard loved him. He loved him with all his heart; his every breath. His every breath that he now longed to cease. With his final breath would be the end of that torturous love. That love that wounds, that taunts, that breaks; that hurts in every aspect, in every regard. Every time he smiles it is a blade to Gerard’s flesh; it cuts deeper every time and won’t stop until he yields and bleeds.

That feeling will soon be gone. And how wonderful that will feel. No. No it won’t. There will be nothing, nothing to feel, he reminds himself; and anticipation builds within to lose all sensations.

Gerard senses movement in the room; hears morphed low sounds that could perceivably be voices. 

There are people here and he wants to be alone. They buzz around in the visual blur behind Frank and destroy the peace. He wants to die alone. He wants to enjoy every solitary second of slipping away. 

Another breath is regrettably taken and Gerard wonders why his lungs won’t just stop. But they don’t. Tragically they never do.

Sleep is starting to wash over his limbs; taking a slow march over eager inches.

An unexpected kiss falls onto a weary neck. And it feels as if this is only mercy; mercy to a dying man. 

Another. This one hotter, wetter. 

Another. Lips are bestowed upon skin that is numbing, cooling, fading out of life. They climb up his neck, climb to jaw, to waiting dry lips. 

Hands still clinging to shoulders tremble and shake. They loosen their unsteady grip and clumsily trail down the body beneath them. Lips still pressed together, a warm tongue teases and parts a chilling mouth; runs over counterparts and feels the joy of reciprocation. A shaking hand clasps Gerard’s cheek and spreads desperate fingers softly across its surface. Its opposite reaches up and tangles within sweat soaked raven hair. 

Disbelief fills every corner of a mind ready to leave this world; leave sensations such as these behind. Gerard had given up entirely on intimacy, on joy, on love.

He feels weightless.

The lingering kiss is becoming lost; harder for Gerard to feel. His head swims and his body aches. His breathing grows laboured; and a crushing weight mounts upon his chest. He tries and fails to lift listless hands to touch his lover; tries again and feels them fall over and off his companions neck.

Frank slowly parts his lips from Gerard’s. Runs both sets of fingers tenderly across his friend’s features; clutches his face and desperately searches his dulling eyes.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads.

Tears are still afflicted upon his image. Grief cutting into a heavenly visage. Every emotion; the hopelessness of watching his friend fall out of life is painted upon his features.

“I’m sorry Frank…” Gerard whispers.

And he is sorry; he is truly sorry.

A tear escapes and runs down a cheek growing colder. And this hurts. Being wrenched from life hurts like a thousand crushing blows. His chest tightens and this pain is real. It hurts to breathe. With each desperate breath Gerard is clinging to life; hoping with each passing second for another more with the man that he loves.

Eyes grow heavy, grow tired so quickly.

He knows he has slipped too far away from the world.

He feels heavy.

His mind screams to cling to life; but it shrugs off cruelly his weakening hold and leaves him to fall.

Gerard wants to say so much, but his lips just quiver and tremble. 

Tear upon tear falls from aching eyes.

Gerard is falling into a nightmare; and he feels so afraid.

He wants to take it all back. Stop time and put the bottle down; push the pills away. 

Time can’t be undone. He is lost. He is fading.

His eyes fall shut and the blackest scene is revealed to him.

The very last sounds he hears are the muffled screams of his friend imploring him to stay, cursing his name for leaving him. He wants to reply but the ability is stolen now. Time so rare, so precious, is running from him. 

The end of his life is filled with the imagining of the thrill of running the back of his fingers gently down the warm cheek of his best friend. He imagines how that could feel, how it would have felt if he had just been brave enough to stay and do it. He had robbed himself of that sensation; and the regret was unbearable. He would die without feeling that soft skin against his own trembling fingers. He would never experience the joy of a passing moment when, their bodies pressed together, their breath would be torn and ragged with arousal; falling out in unison whilst they fought in a tangled embrace. He would never be able to catch his friend’s lips fiercely with his own and savour the precious taste of love in a waiting mouth. 

I don’t want to leave you, his mind cries.

The darkness grows blacker.

I don’t want to leave you, I’ve made such a terrible mistake, he wants to say.

Lips press to his violently in one final desperate plea. 

He feels it; just.

Paramedics rush in.

He wants no more; hurts no more. He feels no more.

He is gone.

Leaves.

Leaves behind a trail of sorrow in his wake.


End file.
